This Dublin four-piece who combine distinctive four-part vocal harmonies with arrangements of uilleann pipes, concertina, accordion, fiddle and guitar, with a repertoire that spans humorous Dublin music-hall ditties and street-songs, classic ballads from the Traveller tradition, traditional Irish and American dance tunes, and their own original material, have taken the unusual step of changing their name recently. Wisely ditching their previous name of Lynched (so named because Lynch is the family name of Ian and Daragh Lynch, two brothers in the band), Lankum comes from the Irish travelling ballad 'False Lankum', albeit named after the child murdering person of that song. Along with the Lynches there's also Cormac MacDiarmada and Radie Peat, two champion traditional players on the fiddle and concertina, respectively. Together they have composed a stupendous album, released on the legendary Rough Trade label, that has seen them win plaudits and coverage way beyond the traditional folk press.
Between the Earth and Sky is decidedly rooted in folk traditions, but with the odd modern reference to persuade us that they are not merely rather good revivalists. In this day of WhatsApp, Google Search and Instagram, the desire seems to inversely increase for anything that smacks of a time before we became connected, and therefore rather visible to all and sundry (hi there GCHQ!). This can be a good thing. A world where super instant this and instant gratification that is kind of boring after a while. It really was not long ago that you had to make your fun, your own entertainment, and plan most everything well in advance. And throughout Between the Earth and Sky, Lankum take an old school approach in developing songs that slowly but surely entrance and engage like few others, whilst underplaying their exceptional musicianship. Mood is more important than flair here, Lankum successfully building an atmosphere that is by turns dark and foreboding, and light-hearted and jaunty.
'What Will We Do When We Have No Money?', sung by the raw and powerful tones of Radie, is a traditional Irish travellers' ballad, that features voices and a deep drone, performed on uilleann pipes, and nothing else over its five minutes. While 'Sergeant William Bailey' speeds up and slows down throughout on a locked-in melange of marching drums, pipes, acoustic guitar and violin, as Ian Lynch imparts his deeply Irish tones on this traditional rebel, and satirical anti-war song, that pokes fun at this British recruiting sergeant. It's all part of an honourable tradition of undermining those in authority, as does 'Peat Bog Soldiers', a short and strident group a capella, originally written in German and sung by early political opponents of the Third Reich.
The original – and instrumental song – 'The Townie Polka' also displays their penchant for slowly building music; a reel, plus staccato cello notes, drone pipes and violin drives this seven minute piece, without a hint of a change of pace. It's leisurely, yet powerful stuff. And the eight minute original 'Déanta In Éireann' is again drone-based, as well as a satirical look at Irishmen abroad, with the last 45 seconds or so a random appendage of sorts, a boozed up kitchen jam featuring kazoos, and one-man band-style percussion. It's in direct contradiction of the somewhat building wall of sound music of the previous seven minutes, and a judiciously light-hearted counterpart. Even longer is the ambitious and experimental, and coarse and beautiful 'The Turkish Reveille', that also builds almost imperceptibly via more deep and dark uilleann droning, with a more traditional, if mournful, folk vocal for accompaniment. Just as captivating is 'The Granite Gaze', a song quite different from the rest of the album, based on an old Ozarks ballad, and (according to the band) dedicated to the women and children of Ireland, past and present and featuring mainly guitar and vocals.
Humour and death, however, are the main calling cards of this foursome. 'Bad Luck to the Rolling Water' is a funny and heartily drunken song about a feisty, hard drinking, drug dealing woman (Nancy): "She could drink a pint of whisky, all straight from the can". Whilst the Appalachian murder ballad Willow Garden is very brutal, the victim stabbed, poisoned, beaten and buried. Not your typical X Factor fare then!
Esteemed folkie Martin Carthy thinks they are the best thing since Planxty, while Rough Trade boss Geoff Travis loves his folk (recent signings include Josienne Clarke & Ben Walker, The Unthanks, Cara Dillon and Alasdair Roberts) and has been a huge factor in bringing a previously much-maligned genre to younger listeners. He's done it again with this exceptional band and their stunning new album.
Jeff Hemmings
Website: lankumdublin.com
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Twitter: twitter.com/LankumDublin